~Her Sin~ Chapter 1 -Harry Potter-

There hadn't been a lot for Draco to do, not where he was at least. His mother, dear Narcissa had somehow escaped the wrath of Voldemort. Or at least that's what he had been told. It must be Snape! He had to be the one...Well none of that mattered now. Draco groaned and looked around as he walked down the dusty street, kicking up pebbles and tiny little microorganisms. "He's gonna slam the door right in my face, little prick.."Draco hissed to no one in particular and kicked a rock at a piece of metal lying discarded at the side of the rode. Then it loomed up in front of him like a horrible,multi-story nightmare. The Weasely house.."What was it that Potter called it..The Burrow.."Draco murmured and stopped a few feet from a door that looked like it led into a kitchen. "Come on! "He insisted and glared at his feet, it was true...this was one of the hardest things Draco had to do in his life. Except of course for..Draco shook his head and closed his eyes. After talking to himself for a moment longer, urging his feet slowly forward towards the door..the sun rose. It got delightfully warmer, which seemed to make it a bit easier for the poor boy. 1

Draco slowly lifted his hand which felt oh so heavy, and brought it down on the door three times in light and rapid succession. He waited for a minute and was about to knock again, but then he heard it..foot steps. He stepped back and let his head drop..some part of him, deep inside felt rather sorry for some of the things he'd said to their family. Mrs. Weasely opened the door and smiled brightly, which ended up turning into a mild frown. "McGonagall..S-she sent me here.." He was beginning to have those flashbacks again. Draco started to tremble. "Oh my..."She said suddenly and stopped frowning so much. "She said you'd help me..If you wont I'll go.." But it was getting very hard for him to speak. He pitched forward without warning, but Mrs Weasely was quick enough to catch Draco.2

"Ah!! Arthur!! Help!!"She called. No sooner had she spoken a loud banging and thudding noise rang out, Mr Weasely had fallen out of his chair. He bolted to the door ready to defend his wife until he saw the limp, frail body in her arms. He shut the door and picked him up, and took him to the couch where he laid him down and tucked a few blankets around him. "He said McGonagall had sent him.." Mrs weasely said and sighed deeply. "I'm sure she'll send us an owl..I just don't want to think of what the boys are going to say.."3